


Rotten

by vevlvn



Series: stuff you didn't know you needed, but you do [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Eventual Smut, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vevlvn/pseuds/vevlvn
Summary: Panting, heaving, sweat on our foreheads.There's growling, but it's not from us.





	1. Molotov Cocktails

Panting, heaving, sweat on our foreheads.

There's growling, but it's not from us. Our feet clatter through the streets, our legs taking us as far away from the rotters as possible. I tell myself not to look behind me but I never listen. At least a dozen of growlers are following us, limbs dangling off their bodies, stumbling over other limbs. I clutch my bag tighter to prevent it from falling as I redirect my gaze to the man running besides me. It’s just us two. We met when this all started and even now he's still wearing those ridiculous blue shades. 

"There! A Car!" he yells. I look at where he points and I see an army green jeep ready to be hijacked. We sprint over there, dodging the rotters who keep lunging themselves at us. We crack the windows with my crowbar and his aluminum baseball bat and get inside as quickly as possible, Tony behind the wheel. I hastily take my leatherman out of my pocket, attempt to hotwire the jeep and try to ignore my head being practically in Mr Stark’s lap while he’s fighting off the remaining rotters. “You close, kid?” he asks. My face grows hot. “Wrong choice of words there,” I mumble, as I hear the car starting up. I sit back straight and jump from anxiousness as I hear a growl outside the cracked window. “Shit,” I say, flipping out the knife from my leatherman. “how are we on fuel?” “Good,” Tony answers. A growler tries to climb through the window. I plunge my knife in it’s head and quickly pull out as I feel movement from the car, huffing at the blood on my hands.

We speed up and drive out of the city, passing some corpses that haven’t turned, one of them being a kid wearing a spiderman shirt. I used to love watching those films. “Who was your favourite superhero?” I ask Mr Stark. He thinks for a second. “Well I never watched the films but I read the comics at your age,” he smiles faintly at the memory. “ but I suppose Iron Man, he was pretty fucking cool,” I don’t say anything. So typical, always mentioning that he’s older than me. 

The silence is overpowering. We take a break from driving and stand still in the middle of the road. As we silently munch down our power bars, I look at Mr Stark. There was something about his charisma that made me decide to stick with him, even though I didn’t have a choice. We met when my school was on lockdown. He was a substitute teacher for my science class, but right before we had class the lockdown was fully in action and everyone was evacuated to the school cafeteria. Suddenly, fellow students and some teachers started dropping down and choking on themselves until they died. We were all in shock and didn’t know how to act, with the school being on lockdown we couldn’t get out. And when the bodies started moving and grunting we all knew we pretty much fucked ourselves and we’d never see the light of day ever again.

As I watched some students being eaten alive mostly everyone panicked, but I didn’t. I grabbed friend Ned and Mark the janitor and we headed towards classroom #39, where I could probably find some stuff to use to fights these monsters off.

“Careful,” I whispered to Ned when we had to cross a hallway. At the end of it stood my english teacher, Ms Petunia, who as it appears will eat us instead of boring us to death. Treading lightly, we make our way across until Mark stumbles over a caution sign that he put up earlier after having mopped the floor. His crash breaks the silence and Ms Petunia turns to us, growling and moaning. Suddenly we hear more and more groans coming from her direction. Ned makes his way to help Mark get up, but Mark being obese as he is only takes Ned down with him. More growlers gathered behind Petunia and make their way over to us. “Ned! Come on!” I yell at him and he finally gets up and stutters an apology to Mark. Limping he made his way over to me and I support him with his arm around my shoulder.

We wince when we hear Marks screams and I hold Ned close. “We’re gonna get through this,” I began, “you’re my zombie apocalypse buddy, I need you,” He whimpered a small agreement and we keep heading towards room #39 but the growlers are closing in on us. “Shit, shit, shit,” I say. I see it all in front of me like a classic horror movie. Ned stumbling and falling, yelling at me to continue and me not having a say in it because it’s life or death. But as I prepare myself for that to happen, the door of room #39 opens and a man with blue shades and an AC/DC shirt steps out and starts throwing molotov cocktails towards the undead surrounding Ned and I. “Get inside! Now!” the man yells at us, fighting off the monsters.

We stumble inside and as we do he closes the door and locks it. We could still see the hands of the growling students knocking and scratching the glass of the door, but at least we were safe for now. I help Ned to sit down on a chair. “Help me barricade this door, kid.” I hear the man say as he clears out a closet full of vials. I help him tilt it against the door and I head over to some chairs to and start stacking them. The man heads over to the teachers desk. “Lift this with me?” Together we barricaded the door successfully, and I didn’t even question it while I had never met this man before. “You good, Ned?” I ask. Ned nods while inspecting his leg. “Mark kinda crushed me,” he mutters. Our life saver gasped and clasped my upper arm. His hand fit around it entirely. “Mark? The janitor? Was he the one who screamed?”

“Yeah,” I uttered, remembering the screams. The man let go of me, looking defeatedly sad. Noticing my worried look he elaborated. “He was a friend of mine, a really good one. He even got me the job of substitute teacher,”    
“Oh, then you were probably supposed to teach me today.” I say to him. He shows a faint smile. “I can still teach you a couple things, like the molotov cocktail thing,” he says. I chuckle at him. “What is that laugh supposed to mean?” He gets up and starts walking towards me, a cocky grin on his face. I can’t wait to wipe it off of his face. “A molotov cocktail, also known as a poor man’s grenade, is fairly easy to make. You use a breakable glass container and some petrol or alcohol as a burning source. Then you dip a wick or cloth in the liquid and use that as an ignition. But in your case you used vials, petrol and cloth from the lab coats,” I proudly proclaim. The man seems taken aback but reasserts himself. “Fine, you win.” he holds out his hand. I shake it. “Stark, by the way. Tony Stark. But it’s Mr Stark for you, as you are my student.”

I sigh. This guy is wack. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

Mr Stark smiles and is about to say something when,

 

“Wake up,”

“Wake up, kid, I think we can find some useful stuff here,” I hear Mr Stark say. He’s shaking my shoulder. We’re in the jeep and the sun is a lot lower than before. “You fell asleep as soon as we started driving again,” Mr Stark explains. “You good? Because I could use your help finding some more power bars. I really like the chocolate ones,” I nod at him and rub my eyes. “Let’s go then,” I yawn. “There’s still a bit of daylight left.” We hop out of the jeep and the surroundings seem clear of any rotters. I see the place that Mr Stark was talking about, it’s a tankstop but there’s a diner connected to it. “Seems promising,” Mr Stark says  and he starts walking towards the building, me tailing him. His dark brown hair is a bit longer than when we met, and he’s wearing a dirty white t-shirt and a denim jacket, matching the darker denim jeans that fit him really well. And especially with the aluminum baseball bat in his hand and a backpack on his back, he seems completely invincible. If he swapped the bat with a beer and maybe lost his blue shades, he could easily be in a heineken commercial. I myself am wearing a football jacket and just regular black jeans, plus the shirt that I wore when we met. My crowbar hangs on my belt and I put on my messenger bag as we enter the building.

The entry wasn’t blocked at all, so we know there probably won’t be any survivors here. Sadly can’t say the same for rotters. We quietly make our way through the building, Mr Stark in front of me with his baseball bat ready for action. He halts and looks back at me. “Jackpot,” he whispers. His low voice makes my neck hairs stand up, but when he lowers his bat to reveal the stocked food isles, I forget all about it. My eyes widen and I shoot him a smile as I make my way over and start packing up the food that wasn’t overdue or rotting to the core. Twinkies, Pop tarts and beef jerky make their way into my bag as I open up a box of breakfast bars and bit in one of them. Mr Stark eyes what I put in my mouth, standing on the other side of the isle. I wink at him and continue eating, as I put the rest of the box in my bag.

We make our way to the diner, where we still see no sign of rotters. I look behind the counter and wince at the sight of two corpses holding hands, both of them a gun in their hand. I suck it up and walk towards them, carefully prying the guns out of their hands. I check the compartments and there are still some bullets left in each of them, so these will come in handy. “Psst, Mr Stark,” I whisper-yell. He looks over to me, as he was checking some cabinets. I hold up the guns and motion for him to take one. He heads over to me but his eyes widen in fear. Before he can say anything I hear a groan right next to my ear. Cold hands grab me and drag me to the floor as I yelp and drop the guns. I scream for Mr Stark and see him jumping over the counter. He crouches down, grabs a gun in one hand and my hand in his other, pulls me towards him in a sweeping motion and fires off the gun, shooting their brains out in mere seconds. He pockets his own and takes hold of the other gun before handing it to me. “Fucking hell kid, if your scream didn’t do it those shots will definitely attract more rotters so it’s time to get out of here,” he takes my wrist and starts leading us back to the jeep.

As soon as I breathe fresh air from the dark sky the first thing I notice are the raindrops hitting my face, secondly the rotters staggering towards us. I take out the knife of my leatherman and square myself up. Mr Stark is the first one to strike. He hits a lady rotter in the stomach, throwing her backwards while I go towards another rotter. It’s arms stretched forward it takes hold of my shoulders, but I redirect and tackle it and push my knife into it’s temple before rushing over to Mr Stark to help him, only he’s already fifteen yards away onto the next one. I finish the lady rotter off, and look at how Mr Stark’s doing, but because of the rain his bat slips out of his hands. He falls to the ground and takes out his gun. Shit. I instantly rush over to him, cursing and sweating, but when he fires the gun he realizes it too. There were only two bullets in there when I found them. I see him looking at me, panic in his eyes, while he attempts to kick the rotter away, but it’s no use. I ready myself and leap onto rotter. Not having expected that to work but happily surprised, I roll it over until I’m on top of it. I instinctively drive my knife into it’s eye socket and shoot a silent prayer to thank god that that worked. My shoulders fall down and I exhale. Taking out my knife, I look at my hands, trembling and covered in blood. But the trembling goes away when I feel Mr Starks hands underneath my armpits, lifting me up. 

He leads me back to the jeep and we get inside. “Take your shirt off,” Mr Stark commands when we settle into our seats. I turn red instantly. “W-what?” I stutter. “You heard me. You’ve been wearing that shirt since day one it’s disgusting,” he says. I want to agree with him but I never found another shirt. Mr Stark sighs and folds out a shirt. It says ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ in black scribbly letters and there’s a yellow cab printed underneath. I chuckle at the irony of the situation, but I still nervously wipe off the blood on the shirt I’m already wearing. Oh god, now I have to change in front of Mr Stark. My face still red, I take off my jacket and shirt, avoiding Mr Starks gaze. I feel the pressure of silence in the jeep as the rain splatters on the roof. I quickly glance at Mr Stark and take the shirt from him, noticing he’s clenching his jaw. I disregard it. As soon as I’m dressed again I toss my old shirt in the back of the car and we start driving. Back on our way to Atlanta.

  
  



	2. Sleepovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s okay, it’s a lot you had to go through, kid. But you still have me, and I’m not gonna give up living just yet,” he says, his voice a little lower than usual. He squeezes my arm and takes hold of my face with his other hand, my ear between his thumb and index finger. His face is so close to mine, I think, and he grins at me. “Now let’s go grab these motherfuckers by the pussy and survive this shit.” he concludes and we get to walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> badass tony is my kink smh
> 
> hi is this robert downey jr how about a zombie film with u as main character thanks love u bye
> 
> also tom holland is doing that sci fi movie chaos walking with daisy ridley aka the last jedi and mads mikkelsen aka hannibal (WHO I MET BTW HE'S SO SWEET OMG) and I'm rescheduling my death until after that movie comes out. that didn't have anything to do with this story except that it keeps me gOINg faM

Can you still suffer from stockholm syndrome if you technically haven’t been kidnapped? I mean, I’m stuck with Mr Stark for survival purposes and he really pisses me off sometimes, pretending like he has a say over everything we do, trying to protect me. I’m really not a child anymore, I’m turning eighteen in a couple months and I’ve done more terrifying stuff in the last couple months than what you’d see in all the Scream movies combined. But even though it pisses me off, I still let him rescue me like the day we met. Because I don't want him to leave, not after Ned. 

Fingers snap and jolt me back to reality. “Hey Pete, you okay?” I focus on who’s in front of me. Brown eyes, unkempt stubble and crinkles in his forehead. I notice the prickles behind my eyes. They must be watery. “I’m fine,” I state, attempting to hide my emotions and i clench my jaw. Mr Stark almost flinches at my fall out but holds his palm against my forehead. “No fever,” he states. I almost shudder at his cold touch, but get distracted by the rotter walking right in front of our car. It’s jaw hanging so low it reached it’s belly button. He strolls past us and takes a course to left over roadkill on the side of the empty road we’re standing still on. We ran out of fuel and decided to take a short rest before planning on how to fix this, only we’re almost in Atlanta and trying to find a working car might take longer than walking there. Mr Stark wants to go to Atlanta to find an old flame of his who might still be alive and has access to all sorts of weapons. It’s tricky to assume he’ll help us, but it’s our only hope for now. “You’ve been sleeping okay?” Mr Stark asks me, “you still have nightmares, don’t you.” I don’t answer him, but he’s right on the money. They’ve been getting worse, I keep thinking back to when this all began and how horrifyingly painful it was to watch so many people die. “Ned,” I begin to say, but my voice cracks and I can’t hold back the tears. Images of Ned flash before my eyes and I can’t hold it in anymore. Mr Stark creeps his arm around my shoulder and leans me towards him, supporting my head on his shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s a lot you had to go through, kid. But you still have me, and I’m not gonna give up living just yet,” he says, his voice a little lower than usual. He squeezes my arm and takes hold of my face with his other hand, my ear between his thumb and index finger. His face is so close to mine, I think, and he grins at me. “Now let’s go grab these motherfuckers by the pussy and survive this shit.” he concludes and we get to walking.

 

“Fuck. This. Shit,” I hiss while fighting off another rotter. We went into the Atlanta Police Station to look for supplies when Mr Stark broke into the evidence room and the fucking alarm went off. “How am I supposed to know they have their own generator?” he yells panicky, bashing a rotter in the head. “You’re the one who drinks and knows things!” I yell back, jumping on top of a desk and kicking a smaller rotter to the floor, he was probably an intern here. Mr Stark throws me my crowbar I dropped earlier and I catch it and smash the intern rotter head in, causing gross sticky brown blood to splatter onto my entire body. Great. Now the shirt Mr Stark gave me is permanently stained. “Kid, any more of those pop culture references and these rotters can have you,” he says while tackling the last one in here. “You’d miss me too much,” I say, “besides, the sooner we get outta here the better. This alarm is gonna attract more,” “Good call,” he agrees and we head out. We found a jerry can with gas but we abandoned our jeep miles back, outside of Atlanta. It’s no use bringing it with us now. When we get out I can hear hordes of them coming our way. Cursing to myself we go back down an alleyway, with a tall fence blocking our way a couple yards down. Mr Stark throws over his backpack and motions for me to jump. I huff at him but allow him to boost me. As I climb over the fence I let myself drop down and stick my hands through the fence to boost him. Perks of having small wrists. But he looks behind him for some reason. “Come on, we don’t a have a lot of time!” I was fuming. I wasn’t about to lose him now. Not now. Not ever.

“Hold on, I heard someone yelling,” Mr Stark argued and he concentrated. I couldn’t hear anything except for the growling and moaning from the horde chasing us. Suddenly, I heard quicker footsteps than rotters could possibly produce. “This way!” I heard a man command just outside the alleyway. Three figures come into our view and Mr Starks eyes widen. He turns to me and hands me and hands me his baseball bat. I sputter back but stop when I see the strangers lose speed. The tallest one is a man about Mr Starks age and the other two are younger like me, one of them wearing a sheriff’s hat. “Come on!” Mr Stark roared and the man seems to have trouble deciding whether or not to trust us. “It’s either us or the rotters!” I remind them, and they seem to get the gist of what we’re trying to get at. The horde rounds the corner and the man motions for his companions to go first and then let’s Mr Stark help him get over. The rotters cornering us, I drop the bat to boost my own companion through the fence and he gets up halfway. Groaning, the monsters come closer and closer and reach for him, grazing his jeans. Mr Stark kicks one of them in the face, smushing its nose into its face like voldemort. I jank my crowbar off my belt and start beating up the rotters attempting to crawl through the fence, so that he can get over safely. “Carl! Stay back with Clem!” the man orders, and he grabs Mr Starks bat off the ground and starts helping me fight off the rotters through the fence. As soon as Mr Stark drops down on our side I help him get up and hand him his backpack. The man tosses the bat to him and starts running away from the growling together with Carl and Clem. I look at Mr Stark and he nods at me, so we run after them.

The worst part of fighting the undead is knowing they had lives before all of this. Every single rotter was born into the world we used to know, most of them in the loving arms of their mothers and fathers. They were children once, they read books and they ate their favourite foods. When I have to kill one it’s had to remember those people are already gone. When I look into their eyes and I can see how they died, in pain, and it breaks me. But we have to keep going. For me, for Mr Stark and for people we get to save.

The ones we just saved lead us towards an empty parking lot, with a big gate at the end. There’s a sign above it saying ‘Life Storage’. I suppose it’s a storage unit building. There’s a chain locking the gate but the newcomers don’t lose speed until the man stops and kicks at the chain. “You sure that’s gonna work?” I ask him, concerned about the sound he’s making. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he answers. I only now notice his heavy southern accent. After a couple tough kicks the chains break and he holds open the gate for us. It’s a big two yellow brick building that’s been a bit overgrown, but looks relatively clean. There were no cars in the parking lot behind us, so I hope that indicates a minority of rotters in the building. More storage units surround the building, each of them closed. The newcomers close the gate behind us and I finally feel like I get to breathe out when I walk towards the wall of the building and sit against it to take a break. “You think we should trust them?” Mr Stark asks me when he comes to sit next to me. I shrug, take a power bar out of my bag and pretend to hand it to him but put it in my own mouth when he reaches for it. I grin at him while he sighs disapprovingly at what I just did and hand him a bar. For real this time. Heavy footsteps approach us as we debate the crunchiness of the breakfast bars, the shadow of the southern accent guy promptly looming over us. I look up at his against silhouette and struggle to analyse his face until he squats down and holds out a hand. I'm not gonna lie, he is really good looking. His hair is somewhat longer and one strand stubbornly curls against his forehead. His jacket, dark brown and suede, show off his physique well and a revolver is held safely in his holster. I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up with Mr Stark. I make a mental note on how to tie a noose for myself, just in case. “The name’s Rick Grimes, and the kids are Carl and Clementine.” he introduces himself with his sexy southern accent. Mr Stark looks at me for a second but I pretend not to notice, before he introduces himself. “Tony Stark, they your own?” he asks, nodding at the kids. Rick shakes his head yes and then no. Confusing. “Carl is my son, Clem has been with us for a while. Lost her parents and the man taking care of her after that. Even though they're both eleven, She’s the toughest one,” he explains and then looks at me, scanning me from top to bottom, “and is he yours?”

Mr Stark clenches his jaw. “We’re not-” “Peter Parker,” I interrupt him, Rick looking a little taken aback, “we’re not related at all.”

Mr Stark nods and smiles politely at Rick. He seems to understand and looks back at Carl and Clementine, waving them over. When we’re all a little settled with each other Rick suggests we find tools to break open some storage units, see if we can find some usable stuff and maybe some shelter for the night. We agree with him and get to searching. I team up together with Carl to try and get to know him a little, since he’s only a couple years younger than me. “So how was all this,” I motion around me, ”for you?” He looks down and I immediatly feel guilty for even asking that question. "I lost a my mom," he said in his lighter southern accent. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I tell him, "I lost my parents when I was six," I continue, "but I suppose it's not the same in these circumstances."

We reach the last outside based unit and I notice there’s no lock on this one. “You wanna open it up?” Carl asks, I hum in agreement and we slide it open. The sun pours into the container, highlighting the specks of dust drifting in the first current of air this unit has felt in a long time. Funnily enough, the unit was decorated as if someone used to live here, but not recently. There’s an ugly carpet on the floor and a beaten up leather couch with empty beer crates on both ends to act as side tables. Soon I noticed the bits of scrap metal in the corner covering up a hidden gem. I rush towards it and pull it out from underneath the pile, presenting the wired purple box to Carl. “You know what this is?” I ask him, he can clearly hear the excitement in my voice as he chuckles a little, “Uh, an old gaming thing?” “a GameCube!” I exclaim. Carl seems interested and I continue. “you ever played on one of these? Before?” Carl shakes his head. I smile at him. “Probably better, I rarely played outside when I was your age, which is why it’s a wonder I’m still alive,” I sigh, sitting down on the couch with the Cube’s controller still in my hands. I absently fidget with it, thinking of Ned. Carl mentions he’s going to fetch someone but I was already too far gone in my thoughts to process who.

 

“Parker! Hey Parker!” I look out of my window, seeing Ned downstairs on the streets of New York. I open up the window and lean out of it. “What?” “I got a golden ticket to nostalgia my friend!” he circles one hand around his mouth to shout louder. I roll my eyes pretending I’m not interested, but when he holds up a certain type of cube I can’t hide it anymore. “Come on up!” I instruct.

We’re in my room, eating sweetened microwaved popcorn and hooking up the GameCube to my PC monitor. We keep playing until the sun has long set and aunt May asks Ned if he’s sleeping over. Parents are called, arrangements are made and Ned ends up sleeping in the top bunk after we stayed up until three AM playing old games on the GameCube, fighting each other for cheating in tetris. “You can’t cheat in tetris!” I argued but Ned was too stubborn. My eyes prickling from tiredness I gaze at my academic decathlon poste hanging above my desk, The lego death star Ned and I built, my chess board MJ’s next move and the iron man mask I bought at a toy store that I hung up on my closet door. All the things that remind me of home. I quickly shoot a silent prayer that I never wanted to lose my sense of home, because I’d be nowhere without my friends. Ned’s steady breathing fills the room and I’m glad my best friend is here keeping me company.

He suddenly moves and I see his head upside down hanging in front me. “We’re supposed to sleep,” I lecture him, but he seems different, eerie, “P-peter..” he groans. “Why didn’t you s-save me..” a dark thick liquid pours from his temple as he still hangs upside down, dripping onto my carpeted floor. Concentrating on the splatters, I become aware that it’s blood, but in the moonlight it seems almost entire black, like ink. I try to move, but I’m frozen. He’s still there, I have to look at him. I want to blink him away but I can’t. “Ned,” I whisper to him, my voice undoubtedly breaking, “it’s okay,” I tell him, but my voice distorts, “it’s gonna be okay,” it’s deeper now, comforting. I almost recognize it when I finally get to blink. Once I open my eyes again Ned’s gone and everything else is too. It’s just me now, in my bunk bed in my old room, asleep.

I wake up wishing my eyes were glued shut so I could blissfully sleep forever, but they’re wide open. The world around me is a little blurry, but it’s probably just me so I try to reach up and rub them. Instead I’m restricted by something warm and heavy. I try to look down but can barely make out an outline. Am I still dreaming? The heat of the weight is crawling into my skin but it’s not enough, I want more. Every inch of my body is wishing it could sink into it right now. Just be completely engulfed, not having to worry about anything anymore. No rotters, no strangers, no Mr Stark.

Slowly the comfort descends leaving me cold. I can barely accept it, but the comfort I lost is quickly replaced by sun rays touching my bare chest and the rest of my surroundings. The garage door is rolled open halfway, granting me a view of the other units. I’m lying on the couch of the container Carl and I found, a jacket laid over me. Carl and Clem are lying on a mattress that was noticeably dragged in here from a different unit and I see Rick and Mr Stark walking around outside, discussing something. Mr Stark glances my way whilst talking to him and instantaneously I’m extra shirtless and extra bothered. A soft breeze grazes my nipples and I quickly cover myself up more with the jacket. It’s scent dug its way into my nose and I instantly know it’s his from the smell of sweat and a little bit of gasoline, but mostly his own bodily odor which I now declare the best thing I ever smelled. I hide underneath it and hope that Mr Stark doesn’t walk my way, but it hurts more when I hear them walking away. I feel guilty, and it pains me that I wish the others weren’t here right now. I want them gone, split up. I want it to be just him, because he would only have me to walk to, to talk to. Us against the world. But then I hear his stupid voice in my head again. 'The more the merrier' and he’s absolutely right.

I just need him to be wrong.

Oh, so absolutely wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you hadn't noticed I got inspired by billie eilish's song ilomilo for this chapter. so uhh, go and give that a listen if ur interested c:
> 
> ps: if u start hating on sweetend popcorn come kiss my ass ;)

**Author's Note:**

> fuck I love writing this one  
> usually it's so difficult for me to write something I'm happy with but this really works for me


End file.
